


Whispers Behind Your Ear (Now or Never)

by jb_slasher



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Author Is Clueless, Both Equally Fucked Up, Canon Until He Started Killing People, Community: 31_days, Community: 7_deadly_sins_, Crack, Dark Past, Dead Man Walking, Disabled Character, Gluttony, Grief/Mourning, Hospitals, Lapse In Judgment, Liverpool, M/M, Not Really Character Death, O Captain! My Captain!, Obsession, Prison, Seven Deadly Sins, Sole Survivor, Stealing Lines From American Pie, Stockholm Syndrome, Vague References to Mark Wahlberg Characters, Willem II, but regrets nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-05
Updated: 2006-08-05
Packaged: 2017-11-10 07:35:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/463795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jb_slasher/pseuds/jb_slasher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Stevie pushes him to lean against the wall and stands up by the sound of it, Sami can't see through the tears so he closes his eyes and continues to sob out all the emotions he hasn't had in the past two years.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whispers Behind Your Ear (Now or Never)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt Gluttony over at LJ's 7_deadly_sins_ community.
> 
> Also a response for the prompt "Make up for that one: a courageous heart, a bare blade, and a long and yellow bow" for August 5 over at LJ's 31_days community.

He stabbed Xabi. Right through his heart. He thinks he broke it, too. Must have.

Then _they_ came and took him away. _They_ took him and locked him away behind bars.

He's been here for eighteen months, most of it spent isolated in lock-down. When he first arrived, he killed the guard who was taking him into his cell, and the kid who shared that cell. Ever since, he's been in this three by six foot cell with a bed and a toilet seat.

He's lost a lot of weight: if he looked into a mirror, he would see his ribs sticking out from his chest.

He's in permanent lock-down, mostly because he hasn't spoken a word after his arrival. No psychiatrist, no guard, no one has gotten a single word out of him, even after breaking his nose and kicking him until he bruised.

Pain is what he is ready for.

Pain is the thing that has guided him through all his life. He can't be hurt by causing him pain: pain is his ally.

Pain is what keeps him going.

But they don't know that. They don't know that, by hurting him, they are only making him stronger. He has a life sentence to endure, why should he give them the pleasure of revealing his secret?

By now, he has killed nine people (excluding the two in here). Xabi would have made a round ten. Xabi Alonso, the one who survived.

Sami had taken a life only when he had had no other choice. But Xabi...

Xabi had become a mortal sin. Sami had had no other choice but to eliminate him for Sami's want towards him had become _gluttony_. It wasn't normal for him to feel like he couldn't function without Xabi there constantly. Sami could not function like that; he was torn between himself and this mad want. Xabi was his pleasure, his addiction, and he couldn't take it.

He doubts Xabi had any idea, neither of his past nor of what was coming.

Xabi hasn't written - there are no visitors in isolation - and Sami doubts he would even read the letter if it ever came.

He remembers well the day when it all began. The FA Cup Final, May Thirteenth of 2006, that was almost four years ago. (So much had changed since then.)

Stevie lifted the cup as captain - not Sami, not like five years earlier - and all of them tried to jump around with Johnny Rocket but their feet had been so sore. Johnny Rocket had been such a lively one even with the sores, bouncing about with the cup after Stevie had handed it to him. Then he'd handed the cup to Sami. He'd tried to bounce with it but the soreness was taking over and his expression was more of pain than joy.

Then it happened.

Yeah, they'd hugged before when scoring, they'd shaken hands when they met, they'd talked and they'd shared a room.

But this was a different story all together. Xabi was looking at him - like he was impressed with Sami staying on the pitch for a hundred-and-twenty minutes - when he held the cup, sort of shy, sort of out of it. They shared this... _look_ , this _moment_ where Sami just thought of saying _D'you wannit?_ and Xabi looked like he was about to say _Yeah_ , and Sami handed it to him and Xabi scurried away.

And Sami looked after him for that second before Johnny Rocket started shouting in his ear.

Xabi had become his weakness that night with the lads drinking and celebrating, when Xabi had kissed Sami. That night had been full of power and sex and emotion. No talking, just whimpers and howls and "oh, _God!_ ". (And Johnny Rocket's unforgettable statement: "Mate, am I gonna have a hangover? Cause I want one!")

Ever since, he had been addicted to Xabi. That summer he couldn't stop following Xabi. By the Community Shield that fall he could hardly sleep away from Xabi. Xabi didn't seem to mind but Sami had always known who he was, had never been like this. He couldn't go on like that.

The safest way for it to end - to his mind, anyway - had been a murder. Well, an attempt, anyway. Sami hadn't thought of just leaving it as an attempt.

But it was better this way. He hadn't _wanted_ to kill Xabi but he'd had no choice.

At least now Xabi was safe, from him and his twisted mind that saw no other way out than the death of someone he... Had it been love? He had been so scared of not being himself during that time.

Sami had signed a confession for the murder of nine people (and the murder attempt). He hadn't wanted to risk getting out during Xabi's lifetime; he'd rather risk going insane locked in isolation than hurting Xabi. Yes, he had loved Xabi, still did. He just couldn't show it in any way that would have made sense to Xabi.

After his arrival and the immediate transfer to isolation, he had closed down. The guards called him "The Dead Man Walking". He had shut down completely, closed off his emotions, dreams, _thoughts_ because just those certain thoughts could have caused him more pain than any physical action ever would.

He can't afford to break down in here. So he takes the beatings without thought, without noise, giving no satisfaction to the guards by staying silent. In isolation, there are no visitors. Rare letters and other mail, but only one familiar face, that of the guard. The only pastime is sleeping and just being (beaten).

Sometimes he reflects on the scars. Well, not really reflecting, more like watching and touching. He consciously avoids the scars he has of the time with Xabi. Those few insane months that had made him crazy. Those months he couldn't afford to think about because they were the only thing that would make him crack wide open. And yet, they were the only thing he would've wanted to think about.

He just _is_. Has been for the past two years and he is doing just fine with the _being_. Until the letter from Stevie.

He isn't surprised _she_ ran and took Rico with her. But that was immediately after his arrest and sentencing to life. That isn't why Stevie wrote to him.

Xabi is dead.

_His Xabi is fucking DEAD!_

This is not happening. The reason he is locked behind bars is gone. This isn't supposed to happen, it just can't! Doomed to a life in prison, in isolation, FOR NO FUCKING REASON! (Well, sort of anyway.)

He breaks down, cries and screams and punches the walls with his fists until the guard knocks him out.

The next morning he wakes up in G-wing, free as a caged bird to step about the wing and everyone keeps calling him Leo. He even stands in line for food and eats lunch with the others. And when he's returning to his cell, someone stabs him in the back with a twelve-inch blade. So he hears later, anyway, and has some odd recollection of it penetrating him, of seeing the tip coming out from the front.

Now, _that_ hurt.

That day, he didn't have time to think, to let this limited freedom sink in, when he was already lying in a hospital bed, pumped full of drugs. The nurses keep calling him Mr. Troy, keep telling him not to worry, that he'll be up and about in no time, his internal organs are fine.

The next time he wakes up is in a bed in a room, an ordinary room, wherever, whenever, a room in a house, full of marks of life, empty of people, and on the door it says "Home". This is the house where for those four precious years he saw Rico growing up. That drawing of the family at the end of the stairs down there: Mom and Dad and Rico.

So many memories that are somewhat hazy. He has almost forgotten how to think and he is still on drugs. Whatever they gave him, it is mind-numbing.

Sitting there on the living room floor, his mind starts to clear up, bit by bit. His thoughts start to resurface, his walls breaking, raw emotions finding their way out into the open.

And he cries. Like the blade is still stuck through him, like the wound is still bleeding after what must have been weeks of hospitalization. His son was taken away and his Xabi... his Xabi is dead and suddenly he is a free man.

What the fuck is going on? Who the fuck is behind this shit? Someone is fucking with him big time and pulling some serious strings to be able to do that.

Was it a coincidence that the first time he showed any emotion in prison, someone arranged his freedom? Is this a limited freedom, too; a limited existence that is supposed to break him or what? But he doesn't want to think of what, who, when, how, nada; he just wants to sit right where he is and mourn.

For a good while, he just cries. Then he suddenly stands up and punches the wall, again, again, once more, and once more... Blood is staining the wall and his hands hurt and he collapses on his knees against it and starts screaming, shouting, howling, cursing, begging... But none of it helps.

So he draws his knees to his chest, leans his shoulder on the wall... and there, in the kitchen doorway stands Stevie, looking at him with that sad expression of defeat, like they'd just lost another match. But this is Xabi, Xabi who is _dead_! And after a moment of slight astonishment, Sami breaks again, this time uttering senseless words of sorrow and falling to the floor, hitting his head on the hard wood floor as if to knock himself out. And then Stevie is there, making him stop, gathering the shattered man into a powerless hug, silently listening to Sami's wailing.

For two years he's been out of the world, he doesn't know what has happened to Stevie, to Johnny Rocket, to... Xabi, that he knows. The unthinkable happened and now he's out in the world, with no idea of what to do.

"You're finally out."

What the hell? What sort of a thing is that to say to a man who's trying to deal with someone's death? Sami's too confused to comprehend why Stevie would say something like that. So he stays quiet and sobs harder against Stevie's shoulder.

Why on Earth is Stevie so goddamn calm, anyway? Why isn't he crying? Doesn't he care that his friend is dead? And Stevie's indifference makes him cry even harder.

Then. The door of the ghost house creaking and slamming. Footsteps. A loud thud. More footsteps.

Stevie pushes him to lean against the wall and stands up by the sound of it, Sami can't see through the tears so he closes his eyes and continues to sob out all the emotions he hasn't had in the past two years. Then there are arms around him again, tighter this time, an embrace that seems to drain the life out of him, taking the breath out of his lungs, stopping the blood circulating in his veins.

Is he going to die now, too? Did someone hire Stevie to watch him after the whole mess of first getting him out of jail? Why not pay some guard to poison him? That would have been a lot easier, why go through all this trouble?

He's coughing for breath, and the hold on him loosens up. His eyes remain closed; he doesn't want to see this person who's done all this just to get to kill him himself.

How could Stevie go with this? Well, he does see a reason: Sami _did_ try to kill Xabi himself. That seems so far away now, and it seems like the stupidest thing he's ever done now. It seems so unreal, too; that thing he'd labeled as gluttony because he was so afraid of going with it.

In the past, he killed people because it had to be done. He had needed the extra money during his time in Holland. Dutch businessmen and rich old women, that's who he got paid for. He'd thought he'd left all that behind him when he moved to Liverpool. No more killing people.

The scary part was that his gut feeling had told him there was no other way but to kill Xabi.

Sami was not a cold-blooded, vicious killer by nature. All those people in Holland... He hadn't known any of them. His gut feeling told him to kill someone he knew, someone he _loved_. That was fucked up. That's why he had to be locked up.

And here he is now, about to die for whatever reason: any reason would do because Xabi Alonso is no more.

"Sami."

Sami continues to sob against the shoulder of whoever is holding him. There is no point to life, to anything, not anymore.

"Sami, look at me."

He shakes his head, he does not want to see, he doesn't.

"Look at me."

He stops sobbing and opens his eyes. He sees a big red bag in the doorway and, from the corner of his eye, a nip of ginger brown hair. _His hair's grown longer._

Sami wraps his arms careful and slow around the man, feels for the hem of the T-shirt and touches the warm skin with cold, bloody fingers that make the man flinch. And his fingers move slowly up and to the right and he doesn't know if he wants the scar to be there or not. But there, it is right where he thought it would be.

What should he be feeling right now? Because he's very much confused. And relieved. And also betrayed. But, for the most part, just relieved.

His left hand touches the man's hair, slow since the memories are flooding back way too fast for him to process them all. He closes his eyes and kisses the man's cheek. Slight stubble, _but it's him_. He wraps his arms tighter around the man and presses his cheek against - _it is really him!_ \- Xabi's.

He can't think of anything to say that wouldn't sound like a cliche so he doesn't say anything, just is and exists, keeps his eyes closed because he can't face Xabi after what he did.

But, despite what he did, he draws back an inch, two, and lets his fingers carefully trace Xabi's features, sees his face in front of him but still refuses to open his eyes. He can't look at Xabi, not after being so stupid.

"Love, open your eyes."

_Don't do that, don't call me that!_

He starts sobbing again, almost wishes he were blind so he wouldn't have to face what is waiting in those brown eyes.

"Love."

He's powerless before the younger man, he submits to Xabi's will. He opens his eyes and, shaking slightly, places his hand over Xabi's heart, then, only then, looks into those eyes.

But it hasn't been easy for Xabi either, he sees: his left eye is almost completely white, his pupil almost gone: blind. That was Sami's fault, that blind eye, and that scar on Xabi's back.

"No wonder you want me dead," he says, staring into Xabi's good eye. That eye widens.

"What?"

An expression of bewilderment.

"I do not want you dead."

Now they are both confused.

"Then why would you get me out of jail and all the way here if you didn't want me dead?"

"Are you insane? Because I love you!"

"Hey! Easy, boys. Fuckin' 'ell."

Like Stevie is the peacemaker here. Sami forgot all about Stevie still being there. And he didn't even consider the possibility of Xabi ever saying something like that. After causing him the loss of his career and a handicap, Xabi is telling him that he still loves Sami, after it all. This is his second chance, his chance to make things right.

You always hurt the one you love, and Sami definitely hurt Xabi. Xabi is giving him a chance to do it right this time, to embrace that feeling instead of altering it to be something else.

"I'm sorry."

Sami's grip on Xabi tightens slightly, not wanting him to pull away.

"You did what you thought you had to do, I guess. Now, forget it. You're a free man and I've waited enough."

Xabi takes Sami's face in his hands and kisses him, just as careful as Sami was before, but on the lips.

They both have their own scars to nurture but, from now on, they will be together. There are no guarantees that this time it will work out but when Sami looks into Xabi's blind eye, he will always remember what he has done. That will keep him sane enough to carry on without fearing that feeling. That will remind him how dangerous mistakes can be.

He will never make that mistake again.


End file.
